LIGHTNOVELONLINE Part 6 - You Need Me
“… You’re that A.M.E., aren’t you?” asked the customer service representative on the phone.
Amy’s lightning storm hair ceased its dance, before continuing at a more tentative pace. She had a pretty good idea of how this would go.
“Y-yes,” Amy confirmed.
His response came flat and sardonic: “… We’re in the middle of an apocalypse, and you’re worried about electricity?”
~̴A̵m̵ ̶I̵ ̴s̷u̵p̶p̸o̷s̴e̵d̴ ̴t̴o̶ ̴p̸r̷e̴t̶e̵n̴d̸ ̵t̸h̵a̴t̷ ̷q̵u̷e̵s̷t̵i̴o̵n̵ ̵m̷a̸k̷e̸s̶ ̷a̵n̵y̴ ̷s̸e̸n̷s̷e̴?̵ ̶ ̷I̶t̵’̸s̷ ̷o̸b̴v̶i̵o̴u̶s̷ ̵y̶o̴u̴ ̸h̶a̷v̷e̸n̸’̴t̶ ̵c̶u̵t̷ ̵o̷f̸f̶ ̴E̴V̴E̶R̶Y̵O̵N̶E̸’̸S̸ ̴p̵o̶w̷e̶r̶,̸ ̶w̸h̴i̷c̵h̶ ̵m̵e̷a̸n̴s̸ ̷y̶o̷u̷’̵r̷e̴ ̶s̴i̶n̷g̴l̴i̶n̵g̷ ̷m̸e̸ ̵o̵u̵t̸.̷ ̸ ̷C̵o̸n̷g̷r̶a̷t̶u̶l̷a̵t̷i̶o̸n̵s̴.̴ ̵ ̴Y̷o̶u̸’̷r̶e̸ ̷o̵n̵ ̴m̴y̸ ̴r̷a̵d̷a̶r̶ ̴n̷o̸w̷.̷ ̴ ̶I̷’̵l̷l̵ ̴b̶e̵ ̴s̸e̸e̵i̵n̷g̷ ̵y̷o̴u̴ ̶s̷h̴o̸r̷t̶l̷y̸.̵~ She shook away the thought.
“I … yes,” Amy replied. “It’s a basic requirement, and it seems most people are still getting power, so …”
“Actually, several sectors have gone dark due to infrastructure damage caused by nyctals. Did you ever pause to consider that?” he asked.
“Yes, but I checked your website,” Amy gently countered. “It said this area has no power because no one lives here anymore.”
“Booting up a sector for only one house takes more resources than not,” he explained. “We’re scrambling to bring emergency services back online as it is: hospitals, schools, police stations … it’s spreading us thin. Please try to understand our situation.”
Her hair drooped with empathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe we could-”
“Thank you for understanding. Have a good night,” he dismissed.
“Wait!” Amy exclaimed. “Maybe I can help! If your people need an escort or someone to guard infrastructure, call me up! I can clear out nyctals from high-risk areas. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll head out there right now. Plus, I feed on electricity, among other things, so I bet I can give you a couple houses’ worth of business.”
“All this just to get your power back on?” Somehow, she practically felt him shaking his head. “You’re just overflowing with selflessness, aren’t you? Nyctals are vulnerable to light.”
She raised an eyebrow. “… And?”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “‘And,’ what would you do with the lights on if it’s only going to hurt you?”
“Oh, right. I’m not as vulnerable as most nyctals,” she explained, with an inward afterthought: ~Is this an interrogation?~
“That’s convenient.” He sounded unconvinced.
“I think so too,” she half-smirked. “In any case, light isn’t the only thing I need it for.”
“Hm, the news reports said you can generate your own electricity,” he noted.
“That’s true, but it’s hard to get the current right. I just fried my stove trying to power it up, and I don’t want to destroy anything else,” she explained, glancing up at her hair as it suspiciously extended tentacles angled at the phone.
“Ah. Well, as a hard-working young woman, I’m sure you’ll master that skill in no time,” he assured.
A hair tentacle shot forward. It actually made a tiny sonic boom. Even so, she snatched it before it could skewer the phone.
“Ha! Gotcha!” Amy exclaimed.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Nothing, sorry,” she apologised.
Managing her semi-autonomous monster body was like babysitting an eldritch tiger, but Amy was fairly good at it. After all, this wasn’t her first tiger. One had been with her since the beginning. In her mind’s eye, it resembled a misshapen kitten whose debilitating deformity somehow made it cuter. But it wasn’t a kitten. Mental chains compressed its features, forcibly molding it into a critter passable for domestic life. Every now and then, the real kittens poked and prodded it. There was no warning of its true nature, because the muzzle was so tight that the closest it came to roaring was a choked whine. Removing the muzzle for a roar would also free the teeth, the jaws. After that? They’d learn, but dead kittens had no use for lessons. However, this time around, Amy loosened the muzzle, just a little. Then she leant against the couch, suddenly more relaxed. Her body language changed, from the fidgeting mannerisms of prey to movements smoother and more confident. It wasn’t full-fledged ‘predator’. More like a rabbit that had picked up the ability to stalk. Somehow, that made it all the more unnerving. Her rosy neon had blueshifted slightly towards purple, while her voice dropped closer to its natural tone.
“Look,” she purred, slow and low. “I want the power back on. The bill has been dealt with. Now, do your job … please.”
It wasn’t what she said so much as the way she said it, like the verbal equivalent of glowing eyes peering from the dark.
He cleared his throat, but his voice cracked nonetheless. “Our records indicate that you were not the individual who paid your last bill. Considering-”
“Why, may I ask, is that your business?” she interrupted.
“We predict that upcoming payments will be unreliable, based on your nyctal lifestyle.”
“Who is this ‘we’?” she asked lightly. “Is it, by any chance, you?”
The pupils of those eyes in the dark were narrowing upon him.
“I’m … I’m sorry, but Bright and Power caters to humans,” he asserted, audibly puffing up his resolve. “There’s no guarantee that you can control yourself forever. Supplying a nyctal with the energy to grow stronger could prove a liability. Every little deed counts when it comes to saving lives.”
“You are very brave,” she cooed.
“Y-You’re threatening me!” he accused.
“Of course not!” Amy exclaimed, feigning hurt. “Bright and Power is lucky to have you, staunchly defending company interests. It’s not like you’re passing up the opportunity to work with a nyctal who will save your lives and make you a whole lot of money. In times like this, that kind of thing could make or break a company. Who knows what your higher ups would do to the person who let a deal like that slip through their fingers, hmm?”
No response.
Her hair tentacles gingerly tasted the phone, messing with the signal so that her voice dipped and peaked in a manner that sounded slightly, unmistakably, wrong.
“You still there, s̵̝̊͜we̵̦̫͓̽̀ê̵̪̾̆thẻ̸̺͚͉art̷̬̩͆̽͘?̵͙̐̕ͅ” she asked.
“Threaten me again and I’ll blacklist this number,” he warned.
She shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll just come up ṫ̴͕̗͕̊̑he̸̬̲̭͗̐re̴̦̭͌̆̀ͅ and have a chat with you g̸̛̞̕uy̷̺̚ş̴̜̙̎̕ in person.”
Amy’s hair tentacles sampled the air, laden with the radio waves of a modern world. She was growing accustomed to his voice, not just the sounds, but the signals that carried them to her phone. Soon, she’d be able to recognise him whenever he made a call like this, t̶o̵ ̴a̷n̷y̶o̴n̷e̴.̵ ̷ ̴I̴t̵ ̵w̷o̸u̴l̴d̵ ̵b̵e̶ ̸e̸a̷s̴y̶ ̶t̷o̶ ̷f̶o̷l̸l̷o̷w̷ ̷t̷h̸o̷s̵e̵ ̷s̴i̴g̸n̷a̵l̴s̵,̴ ̷l̵i̶k̷e̷ ̸a̶ ̸s̵h̴a̸r̷k̸ ̸s̷m̶e̶l̵l̸i̵n̷g̵ ̶b̷l̵o̸o̶d̴ ̷o̶n̴ ̸t̸h̷e̴ ̴w̸a̴t̷e̷r̸.̵ ̴ ̶S̴h̸e̶ ̷c̷o̵u̸l̸d̴ ̴j̶u̶s̴t̴ ̵s̸h̵o̷w̷ ̴u̷p̷ ̸a̸n̴y̸ ̸t̵i̶m̴e̵,̸ ̵b̴u̴t̵ ̶t̶h̴a̴t̷ ̷w̴a̴s̵ ̷t̸h̷e̶ ̴t̵i̷p̶ ̵o̷f̷ ̶t̶h̵e̸ ̵i̴c̶e̷b̶e̵r̴g̶.̶ ̸ ̴A̷m̵y̶ ̶w̷a̵s̵ ̵l̷e̴a̴r̶n̶i̶n̸g̵ ̸h̸o̷w̴ ̶t̶o̷ ̷g̷e̸n̷e̵r̴a̷t̸e̷ ̵t̸h̸e̷ ̷r̸i̵g̶h̸t̶ ̴r̶a̶d̵i̵o̴ ̵w̶a̵v̵e̵s̷ ̵o̴n̸ ̸h̸e̵r̵ ̴o̴w̸n̷.̸ Soon, she might not need a phone, or even an internet provider. That would be nice. If she really focused, maybe she could pull it off right there and then:̶ ̶l̵i̷s̸t̸e̸n̸ ̶i̷n̶ ̶o̵n̶ ̶a̵l̸l̶ ̷h̵i̴s̴ ̷c̴a̵l̴l̵s̶,̶ ̶l̶e̴a̶r̶n̴ ̷w̷h̸o̵ ̶h̷e̶ ̷w̴a̷s̵ ̴a̷n̸d̷ ̶w̶h̴o̴ ̵h̸e̸ ̴l̷o̶v̶e̶d̵,̴ ̸t̸h̸e̷n̵ ̴m̵a̵k̶e̸ ̵a̸ ̶f̴e̸w̵ ̶c̴a̴l̵l̸s̵ ̵o̵f̵ ̸h̵e̷r̴ ̵o̸w̷n̸,̷ ̸w̷i̶t̸h̷ ̴h̵i̶s̵ ̴v̸o̴i̵c̶e̵ ̸a̷n̴d̷ ̸d̷i̸g̶i̶t̶a̶l̷ ̵I̵D̷.̸ ̸ ̸S̵h̴e̴ ̸c̴o̴u̸l̴d̷ ̶s̷a̴y̶ ̴t̸h̷i̶n̸g̴s̸ ̵t̴h̵a̵t̴ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̵d̷ ̸n̵e̶v̸e̷r̵ ̵b̶e̵ ̷t̵a̴k̶e̸n̶ ̷b̵a̴c̵k̵.̵ ̵ ̷H̶i̶s̷ ̴c̵a̸r̶e̴e̵r̷ ̶w̶o̵u̸l̴d̵ ̴b̸e̴ ̵o̵v̷e̷r̷.̴ ̸ ̶H̵i̴s̶ ̴r̶e̵l̵a̷t̵i̴o̴n̸s̶h̷i̶p̴s̵ ̶w̴o̸u̷l̸d̵ ̸l̶a̶y̶ ̵i̴n̸ ̶r̶u̸i̷n̵s̷.̶ ̷ ̸H̴e̸’̸d̵ ̶k̴n̴o̵w̶ ̶i̸t̶ ̴w̴a̴s̸ ̵h̸e̵r̷,̸ ̵b̵u̶t̸ ̶h̶e̷’̴d̴ ̴h̸a̶v̷e̵ ̷n̸o̸ ̸p̶r̴o̴o̶f̷.̴ ̴ ̴T̵h̸e̵n̴,̵ ̸o̷n̵e̷,̶ ̵m̴i̸s̶e̸r̸a̸b̴l̴e̷ ̸n̷i̶g̴h̵t̸ ̵w̶h̵e̷n̶ ̶h̵e̸ ̸w̶a̴s̵ ̶a̵l̸l̸ ̷a̵l̵o̴n̷e̵,̴ ̴s̸h̷e̵’̴d̶ ̷m̵a̶n̴i̴f̸e̴s̸t̶ ̸i̴n̶ ̴f̷r̴o̷n̸t̵ ̴o̷f̵ ̵h̴i̶m̴ ̸a̵n̸d̸ ̴g̵r̴i̷n̴.̵
Amy massaged her temple. That was a long one. She wasn’t exactly sure what had passed through her head, but if she had to dump so much of the memory? It was bad. Chances are he really didn’t deserve it, like pulling out a military-grade gutterperk on the sorry soul who fired a spitball. Most thoughts could be stopped before properly forming, but maybe some slipped through because she let them. Maybe a part of her decided to savour them before deletion. That aside, why let him occupy so much of her headspace, for any reason? He was just a stranger who didn’t like her. There would be bigger, more aggravating challenges. How would she handle them? Back when she was indisputably human, Amy had developed her own, dysfunctional little system for dealing with these things, but now? The weight of the city was on her shoulders. She couldn’t even refresh with a quick nap. Staving off thoughts wasted time and energy. Only a fraction of her attention could focus on the conversation. Present day Amy was like a baby, learning how to think all over again. Between toddling into the new while biting back the old, she didn’t have much room to figure out what to do like a well-adjusted human being.
She needed to create some distance between herself and this guy.
“May I speak to someone else?” Amy ventured.
“No,” he stated simply.
~Why, that little! … Okay, breathe in, breathe out,~ Amy thought.
She’d tried to be nice. She’d even intimidated him. Why was he pushing so hard? If he really thought she was just a monster, why risk his job and general wellbeing for this? Prejudice wasn’t generally this single-focused. It almost felt like …
Oh.
Realisation flashed behind Amy’s eyes. Maybe she’d been thinking too much about herself, rather than unravelling his side of the equation.
“I did something, didn’t I?” Amy asked.
He didn’t answer.
She continued. “This isn’t prejudice, it’s personal. I did something to you or someone you love, didn’t I?”
Still no answer.
“Tell me, please,” Amy pressed, “otherwise this is all for nothing. I won’t come away feeling guilty. You’ll have no justice. I’ll just come away thinking you were a jerk.”
“Why?” he finally asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “… Why what?”
“Why are you the only one who gets to come back?” he elaborated. “Why did my son leave his house, thinking he heard his daughter crying, only to find the monster that took her and her voice? Why were they both buried with steaming gaps on their shoulders while you get to whine about electricity? God knows how many people people lose their lives to that … THING … and then it stops at you. Why? Are you special? Do you deserve to live more than they did?”
His questions hung on the silence that followed.
“… No,” she quietly replied. ~̸Y̶o̶u̶’̵r̸e̷ ̵l̶y̵i̷n̸g̷,̷ ̶A̵m̴y̴.̷~̷
“Do you really believe that?” he pressed.
She thought for a moment. “I believe I survived the A.M.E. because there’s something wrong with me. I’m not better. I’m defective. Your son passed trying to help someone he loved. I’m sure he was more wonderful than I can ever be.”
He said nothing. She waited. After several seconds of silence, Amy allowed her lower body to dissolve a bit, sinking to the floor before reforming it so that she sat cross-legged.
“Please, tell me more about him,” Amy requested.
A brief pause. Then she heard the click of a phone meeting its cradle. The line went dead.
Amy’s hair lowered. It moved no more. With a heavy sigh, she released the phone, her atmospheric mass easing it to the ground like a pebble sinking through water. The room grew dark and cold as Amy stared up at the ceiling. From shadowed corners, pitch black forms like avatars emerged, creeping and crawling towards her. She didn’t react, even when they gradually began to prod, pinch, pull, scratch and bite. Soon, only her face was free as they engulfed her like feasting vultures. Soon, even it would vanish beneath them. She closed her eyes.
Something yanked her up from their midst. They scattered. Amy spun to identify the responsible party.
“M-MOM!?” Amy yelped.
Once she’d gotten past the knee-jerk response, it was evident that this wasn’t her mother, but a biomass construct made in her likeness. It wasn’t a true avatar. It lacked the luminous hair indicating Amy’s concentrated consciousness. That didn’t change the fact that it was lifting her by the wrist with a single arm, frowned at her.
“Really?” asked Pseudo Mom. “You let those things tear at you, and I’m the one you react to? Amy, you’re supposed to be strong-willed!”
“There’a s difference between having strong will and actually using i-!” Amy cut the argument and switched gears. “Mooooooom! You can’t just show up rent-free in my head like thiiiiis!”
“Hmph. I suppose you’d rather I left you to stew in your own …” Pseudo Mom trailed off upon spotting the electric stove, still smoking. Then there were the burn marks in the curtains, carpet and bed sheets, not to mention Pancake Amy.
“hEwO, mUmMy!” piped up the pancake.
“What in the-?” Pseudo Mom began. “Did you almost burn down the house in several different-? What even is that thing??”
Pancake Amy chortled.
“Mooooooooooooom!” whined Amy, squirming for freedom as she dangled in the figment’s iron grip.
“Alright. You’re right,” agreed Pseudo Mom, setting down Amy like a wolf releasing its pup. “This is your house. I have to respect that. Let’s start over.”
Pseudo Mom walked out into the hall and closed the door behind her. In actuality, Amy’s ‘house’ was an apartment building, but after being mostly deserted, she had the whole thing to herself. The owners were even kind enough to give her the deed. Maybe the A.M.E. never would have caught her if she’d just moved out like everyone else. The allure of not having to pay rent had addled her little mind.
Pseudo Mom knocked on the door. “May I come in?”
Amy held her breath, staring at the entrance but making no moves towards it.
More knocking, more forceful.
Amy gulped, reached out with her aerotelekinesis and twisted the lock. She winced as it made the slightest *klik*.
There was a pause.
Pseudo Mom tested the door, confirming that it was locked.
Another pause.
Amy was shivering.
Footsteps audibly departed from the door.
Amy exhaled her relief.
The footsteps returned, fast and hard.
Amy screamed as the door was blasted off its hinges. It flew across the room and wedged into the wall. In its stead stood a very miffed Pseudo Mom, lowering her upraised foot.
Her tone was low and dangerous. “Amy …? Were you planning to ignore me and just hope I go away?”
Amy glanced at the window. Forget the rentless building! If she flew really fast, maybe she could get away. Oh, who was she kidding? This thing was part of her biomass!
When her eyes returned to Pseudo Mom, it was inches away, looming above her with folded arms. Apparently, this thing could offscreen teleport.
Amy gave a placatory smile as she shakily raised her claws and snapped them like crazy.
Pseudo Mom stared, unamused. “And now you’re trying to finger-snap me out of existence. My own daughter …”
Amy almost looked like she would cry. “Oh, come onnnn! You’re not even my real mom! You’re just a Flanderised caricature of her! Why isn’t this workinnnng?”
The finger snapping intensified.
Pseudo Mom rolled her eyes and put a hand around Amy’s vigorously snapping claws. Gentle as it was, the message was clear. Amy didn’t dare another snap.
“I’m sorry,” Amy squeaked.
“No you’re not, but you’re right,” Pseudo Mom conceded. “I’m not your mom. That’s why I’m here. That’s also why your attempts to get rid of me aren’t working.”
Amy’s face scrunched. “… Okay, sooo … what? You’re here ‘cause I apparently enjoy getting chewed out by figments of my imagination?”
“I’m here because you need me,” Pseudo Mom stated. “If you really wanted me gone, I would be. You’re not gonna talk to your mom about your issues, but you really want to, hence my existence. You can and will tell me anything you want, but it stays in this room. What teenager would pass that up, right?”
Amy frowned. “I’m not a teenager.”
“Since, like, five seconds ago,” Pseudo Mom countered. “Well, might as well get comfy, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere until you’re good and ready.”
Amy stared down the figment for a moment before resigning with a long groan that did nothing for her image of being a little more than a teenager.
“Uggghh! Fine, but this is gonna get messy. I’ll grab the maple pecan ice cream,” Amy declared as she floated for the fridge, literally dragging her feet.